


September

by Rinny636



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Bilbo, Immortality, M/M, More characters and tags to come, Mystery mystery mystery, Oh yeah theres a hint of sexy stuff, Thorin is a sap, just a hint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinny636/pseuds/Rinny636
Summary: Immortality is a gift.Thorin found it to be a blessing and a curse. He knew he would never see his company again, they all died out over a thousand years ago.Well, so he thought. Apparently Thorin wasn't the only one blessed with this gift, and now he has to set out to find a certain curly haired, short, fussy, former hobbit.





	1. This is not from Elrond

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing bagginshield, dorky dwarves and fussy hobbits. 
> 
> Inspired by a few songs - "Gun in My Hand" by DOROTHY and "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire.

The light from the fire was all that was illuminating the small, shabby cabin in the Greenwood as the dark night hung over the forest. It was coming from the windows, the fireplace crackling and flickering the warm glow around the interior of the cabin. 

“Should it take long?” the white wizard spoke, lighting his pipe as he sat on a chair by the fireplace. Gandalf gripped his staff as he looked up to Radagast, the brown wizard having just closed the door to the small bedroom of the cabin. 

“Ah, well-” Radagast stopped for a moment, furrowing his brow as he took a seat by Gandalf, “Actually, I am not quite sure.” 

Gandalf couldn’t help but smirk and take a puff of his pipe, “As long as he is strong enough, I am assuming?” 

“Aye, yes, yes, _yes!_ As long as he is strong enough to withstand the physical changes, then he will be able to walk out of it alive,” Radagast clasped his hands together, smiling towards the white wizard. 

Gandalf nodded, turning his gaze back towards the fire as he pulled the pipe from his mouth. He let out a long breath, smoke rising from his mouth as he sighed. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if this was going to work or not. 

The world was changing, what they knew as Middle Earth was slowly but surely dying out. The Elves had already crossed the great sea; the Dwarves as a race were drifting away, almost extinct due to more of man’s world taking over. The great creatures he once knew were going into hiding or already dead. And the One Ring, thankfully, was destroyed long ago. And the Hobbits - oh, the Hobbits. They were gone too, along with the Shire. 

That was over a thousand year ago. Sometimes it was painful to be a wizard gifted with the ability of immortality. He knew of course that the world would change, he knew he would have to change with it. It was like that for many beings that had this ability in Middle Earth, it extended from wizards, to the Elves, to certain great creatures. 

But he never, in a thousand years, thought it would pertain to the likes of _Dwarf._

The sunlight peaked through the windows of the cabin, waking the white wizard that leaned against the chair in the corner by the fireplace. He grumbled a bit, blinking his eyes as he arose from his slumber. The creak of a door gathered his attention though, Gandalf rising to his feet as he grabbed his staff. Radagast had been sleeping against the wooden table, waking when he heard the bedroom door opening. 

Gandalf walked towards the doorway, his brow furrowing as he narrowed his eyes. A hand gripped the frame of the door, using it to pull the body out of the bedroom. Blue eyes searched for something to hold on too as his body stumbled towards the two wizards. 

The white wizard smiled, “Ah, you overcame the spell,” he greeted as he motioned towards an empty chair at the wooden table, “As I knew you would.” 

“How long has it been,” a gruff voice asked. 

“Only a night,” Gandalf answered, leaning against his white staff, “A very surprising turn out, considering your dwarvish features had to be transformed completely. But you’ve overcome it, as I knew you would, Thorin.” 

Thorin Oakenshield looked up towards the wizard, then down to his hands. No longer plump or thick, no these hands were the hands of a man and not a dwarf. “The spell worked then?” his voice was tired. 

“Aye, it did,” Radagast answered, “But you will need some time to adjust.” 

“And this is permanent?” the now tall Durin walked over to the white wizard, finding it a little strange to now be at eye level where he once had to look up. 

Gandalf nodded, “It is,” he said, he quirked an eyebrow, “But it will benefit you, especially these days where you can blend in without question.” 

Thorin felt his hair fall by his face as he sat down at the wooden table. He leaned heavily against the hard surface, “Then what becomes of me now, Gandalf?” 

The white wizard frowned, pursing his lips for a moment as he furrowed his wrinkled brow. He stepped over to the table, taking a seat across from the form Dwarf King as he did many a year ago at the ‘Prancing Pony’. He placed his staff against the table, and clasped his hands together on the wooden surface. 

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf began, his voice gentle and knowing, “You have been given a gift, and a curse-- one that should be taken with great care and caution. The world is changing before us, Thorin -- and you must learn to follow those changes to ensure that your existence - our existence is kept secret. You know this, but I cannot control your actions or the paths you choose. So what becomes of you in the future, is entirely up to you, Thorin. The time of magic has reached its limits, man has no need for it and more now perceive it as myth more than facts. This is the world of men now, Thorin. And we must abide by it.” 

\----------------------------------- 

**AUGUST 27TH - CURRENT DAY**

It was early in the morning when Thorin awoke, the sun barely rising over the skyline. He pushed himself up from his bed, the routine in his mind already starting to kick in. Get up, brush teeth, take shower, get dressed, make coffee, have breakfast, and finally - open the shop. Every day for the past five years was like this without a hitch, and Thorin- despite many, many years of wandering over this world- was fully content with it no matter what. 

Being immortal was an existence of constant stress, and ever since that day he walked out of Radagast’s cabin as a man, he was constantly battling with it. From sea voyages, to industrial changes, to civil wars, to world wars (of which he fought in both of them), and then working in government secret service due to a long ago agreement with Elrond- Thorin felt he never had a moments peace. That was until once again - out of the many, many, many times- the time came where he had to change his identity before anymore suspicions would rise. Of course, he had Gandalf to thank for that, the wizard was quite crafty when it came to switching information to and fro between government agencies. “Meddlesome wizard” was becoming more and more of a blessing than an annoyance. 

The only thing that was an annoyance however was the blasted mystery - why he was immortal. 

Truthfully he didn’t just wake up day and then boom! He was immortal. No it was a slow, shocking, and most of all - painful realization. One that involved watching your loved ones age around you, yet you yourself haven’t aged since the day you fought in a long battle over the Lonely Mountain. It was always a hard, painful memory, but he always tried his best to move forward despite how many of the times he screamed and cried. He had to keep his wits. 

And today wasn’t any different. Or well, so he thought. 

Thorin, for the past five years, has been running a small jewelry craftsman shop in Whitby, on the Yorkshire Coast of England. Never to stray away from the art of craftsmanship for jewels and ironworks, running this shop worked wonders considering his collection that he kept since the days of Erebor. Truth be told, in terms of money he was already set, this shop was just something to keep his mind running. 

He was just opening up the shop, fingers turning the keys before he heard the tapping of a cane behind him. Thorin stopped, knowing exactly what to expect when he turned around, and his shoulders sagged a bit with a sigh. “Must you always visit unannounced, wizard?” he turned around to face the form behind him. 

Gandalf tapped his cane, his beard much shorter and he was wearing a nice grey suit to go with his grey fedora. The wizard smiled, “Now Thorin Oakenshield,” he tipped his head, “after all these years, you still haven’t learned by now?” 

Thorin quirked an eyebrow, wanting to feign being insulted but the smirk grew nonetheless. He opened the door to the shop, “Tea, Gandalf?” 

“Ah, yes. That would be lovely,” came the wizard’s warm smile. 

\------- 

Gandalf turned the spoon around in his tea cup, looking down at the small, black cup that he held in his hands. It was well crafted, small golden, intricate laced designs painted carefully along the rim off the cup. The wizard nodded towards the former dwarf, “Wonderful work, Thorin,” he took a sip of his tea, “As always.” 

Thorin was sipping on his own cup as he leaned against the small counter that sat in the back office of the shop. It was a small kitchen where Thorin could have his breaks and eat lunch, nothing fancy of course considering the rest of the shop was either the showcase out front of the workshop in the back. Thorin brought the cup away from his lips, holding it around its face as he crossed his arms, “So what brings the great white wizard to my doorstep?” 

“Now Thorin,” Gandalf sat back in his seat, “Can’t a friend come by just to see how you are doing?” 

The once dwarf king smirked, “Well yes,” he said carefully, tapping a finger around the warm tea cup, “But you usually have something important to discuss when you come unannounced.” He sipped his tea, “That I _have_ learned by now.” 

The wizard couldn’t help but smirk at that, lips curling away from sipping his tea. He put down the cup, and moved to slip an envelope from inside his jacket pocket, placing it on the table. 

Thorin glanced at the envelope, biting his lip, “Gandalf,” he began, “We’ve been over this - I’m done with Elrond’s special forces.” 

“This is _not_ from Elrond,” Gandalf said, voice low as he sat back in his seat. 

Dark eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at the wizard, arms unfolding from his chest. He put down the tea cup and reached out for the envelope, opening it. Thorin pulled out a series of pictures, all of them clear and clean from close ups to shots from yards away. His eyes were studying the pictures, finding that every single one of them included a short, blonde haired man walking along various streets. He knew this man, he knew this face - those rosey dimples, and golden curls, that button nose, and those hazel eyes… 

Thorin found he was having a hard time standing up, hands fumbling a bit to catch the chair that sat opposite of Gandalf at the table. He slunked down into the metal chair, elbows on the table as he stared at the pictures in his hands. “Gandalf,” he finally breathed, realizing that he’d been holding it for a while, “This-Th-This is--” 

“Bilbo,” Gandalf nodded. 

The pictures fell against the table with the smack of Thorin’s hand, the tall man sitting back against his chair as he still stared in shock. His eyes were wide, almost glistening, “How can this be?” 

The wizard leaned forward, hands clasping together as he did so. He looked to the former dwarf, brow furrowed as he spoke carefully, “As it turns out,” he began carefully, “You are not the only one from Middle Earth that was blessed with a gift.” 

\--- 

Gandalf spoke carefully as he explained how their little burglar came to live much longer than a normal hobbit. 

True, yes - he had taken on Frodo, fathering him and leaving the ring behind when he left. That much Gandalf knew because he had witnessed it all, but what he didn’t know was after they left Bilbo in Rivendell, his youth began to come back to him. Elrond had theorized that it was due to the Ring that was making the hobbit age before, the trinket draining whatever energy it could to thrive. The process was long, so long that it took till after Bilbo and Frodo left for the Undying Lands for their burglar to regain his full strength, though Gandalf had returned to roaming Middle Earth before he could witness it. 

The Elves knew of Bilbo, but it was Bilbo who asked the Elves to keep his existence a secret. Gandalf hadn’t known about the hobbit until stumbling upon him in London when he had some business to do with Elrond. 

“What a wondrous thing, technology,” Gandalf mused, “When I had told Elrond, he had told me it was impossible. But the moment I showed him those pictures on my little phone, well -- he shared me the story.” 

Thorin sat, sunk in his seat, both hands cupping the tea cup, “How is this possible?” he wondered aloud. 

“How indeed,” Gandalf finished his tea, “Elrond suspects that Bilbo’s case is similar to yours.” 

“Does he know about me?” Thorin glanced up to the wizard, almost hopeful. 

The wizard shook his head, frowning, “Elrond made sure to keep your situations secret. As to why, I am not sure.” 

“What is he doing in London?” Thorin glanced up to Gandalf, arms folded and his tea completely forgotten. 

Gandalf let out a smile sigh, his face falling a bit, “I do not approve of it, but Bilbo has been doing jobs for Elrond and the British government over the years.” 

“What kind of jobs?” Thorin quirked an eyebrow, “Like-- military?” 

“A bit yes,” the wizard had gripped his cane, running a thumb over the white crystal knob at the top of the staff, “I am not sure to what extent he has worked in the special forces, Elrond would only mention very little. But it appears he’s been part of intelligence gathering for quite a number of years.” 

“Is he still in London?” Thorin looked up, hopeful. 

Gandalf frowned, knowing too well that question was coming, “I am afraid not, Thorin.” And before Thorin could ask as to why, the wizard continued, “Elrond specified that he left the special forces about a year ago, as to why they do not know. They lost contact with him, but I do know they’ve been trying to find him.” 

Thorin felt his brows furrow, his eyes darting back to the pictures on the table. He picked one up, it was a close up profile of Bilbo as he walked down some wet, rainy street. Crystal blue eyes slid back up to look upon the wizard, “How long ago were these pictures taken?” 

“Eight months ago,” Gandalf nodded to the pictures, “And I’ve been keeping in touch with Elrond, according to his sources Bilbo travels to London on the first of every month.” 

“But they don’t know where or for why do they?” Thorin quirked his eyebrow, though his eyes never left the picture. He never forgot the details of their hobbit, not even in these past few thousand years has he forgotten. Thorin was unconsciously rubbing a thumb over the glossy texture of the photograph, “This is no chance visit, is it? You want me to find him?” 

Gandalf smirked, “Now Thorin,” he began, “that, my dear friend, is entirely up to you.” 

Thorin didn’t have to reply, just return the smirk as he glanced down at the collection of photographs. To find Bilbo once again, to see his beautiful golden hair and his smile… 

It would definitely be his decision indeed. 

\------- 

The last time Thorin saw Bilbo, was briefly during a fever fog as he was lying in a medical tent after the battle at Ravenhill. He doesn’t quite remember what Bilbo had said, his mind was so muddled from the exhaustion and fatigue that he could barely make out anything. All he remembers is that Bilbo had left the acorn by his side, and then quietly disappeared. No one in his company had been around to see Bilbo or hear what he had said, all they knew was that he said his goodbyes and left. 

That was his biggest regret, Thorin never had a chance to tell Bilbo how he felt. Or how he forgave him for everything - really, he could never forgive himself for how he treated Bilbo during his gold sickness. He wanted so badly to tell the hobbit everything, but he always came up a coward. He could never let go of the acorn; it was currently hanging from the necklace that he wore everyday. 

He remembers the last time he had seen a hobbit, and that had been the young Frodo Baggins. And that was a long time ago. 

The young hobbit was on his way to Mordor to throw that blasted ring into the fire, it was strangely by chance that Gimli mentioned they were close to Erebor. Thorin had welcomed him with open arms, and at first thought Frodo was Bilbo’s son which Frodo had cleared up quickly that he wasn’t. The conversations they shared though, he remembers how Frodo would talk about Bilbo and his stories, about how he traveled over Middle Earth to slay a dragon. “He always talked about you fondly, said you were the strongest person he had ever met,” Frodo had spoken with a smile. Frodo’s visit was very brief and he’d never see him again after that. The only part he had in the quest of the One Ring was when he led an army to fight against the orcs alongside the Elves and the army of Men. He’d rather forget that day to be honest. 

But he could never forget Bilbo, and that is why he was currently riding his motorcycle on his jolly way to London. His shop closed up, his little bags packed, and the wizard’s information to guide him, he was hoping to find Bilbo sooner rather than later. If he could that is. 


	2. You already have a plan, don't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, Elves.

AUGUST 29TH 

Thorin made it to London within a few hours, he was there by the end of the night. He already had a flat set up in London, something of a vacation home for him when he wanted to visit the city, which wasn’t very often. As he parked his bike into the small garage on the ground floor of the flat, he could make out a tall, slender figure standing by the front door. Of course the Elves would get wind of his involvement, either from Gandalf or from another source, he wasn’t sure. 

He took off the helmet, nodding to the slender man that walked towards the garage, “Legolas,” he greeted. 

Legolas stood in front of the garage, hair tied back in a bun and wearing a dark brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath and tight, green pants with brown boots. He nodded to the former dwarf king, “Thorin,” he stepped forward into the garage. 

“I take it you already heard from Gandalf,” Thorin had put his helmet up, setting it on a hook near where the bike sat. 

Legolas nodded, “Of course.” 

He turned to glance back at the Elf, pocketing his keys and pulling his bag over his shoulder as he made his way out of the garage, “Shall we?” he motioned to lead Legolas inside the flat, the Elf following suit. 

Thorin’s flat was nothing really extravagant - two floors and street front windows, though it was definitely filled with quite a number of antiques. He really preferred unique, classy style of furnishing rather than the modern, soulless furniture nowadays. He set his bag by the couch and moved to sit down, Legolas following closely, though he seemed to glide his way towards the chair that set next to the couch. 

“Does Elrond know that I’m involved?” Thorin took off his black, leather jacket, tossing it aside. 

“Not quite yet, though I have no doubt he will soon,” Legolas was rubbing his hands together, “You know how he is.” 

“Aye, that I do,” Thorin frowned and letting a heavy sigh escape his lips. 

Elrond of course was never an enemy, never was and never will be. He was simply a little - paranoid at times, especially with the world today. As the world shifted and changed, as man took over and the once great kingdoms of Middle Earth died out; the Elves were the only ‘mystical’ beings left from the days of old. Over the years, they realized that the world needed guidance and protection, considering the world of man had grown corrupt and cynical. So over the centuries, the Elves had wheedled their way into some of the world's major governments. Elrond was a high power within the British government, and only other person besides Gandalf that helped Thorin hide his existence over the years. In return, Thorin would work with the British Special Forces on certain military missions. With Thorin’s unique skills, albeit some learned from Legolas over the years, it made these missions quick and quiet. Legolas was more a ‘freelancer’ agent amongst the Elves in government, only called in when he was needed but he usually stayed near the Greenwood. Tauriel had advanced herself in the works of a healer, now having her own practice in London, with some clinics around Europe, Asia, and overseas, all of which employed fellow Elves. Lady Galadriel was still amongst the Elves in the Undying Lands, safely hidden from the world of man. As for Thranduil, Thorin wasn’t sure, “How is your father these days, Legolas?” 

The Elf gave him a flat look, “Must you _always_ ask that question?” 

Thorin shrugged, “I’m simply-- _curious_. I haven’t seen him since Erebor.” 

Legolas sighed, grinding his jaw around, “He’s-- fine. He refuses to leave the borders though.” 

“The great Elven King is a _shut in?_ ” Thorin quirked an eyebrow, almost grinning. 

“ _Thorin_ ,” Legolas sighed. 

Thorin sat up from the couch, “I meant no harm, Legolas.” The Elf prince looked skeptically at the former dwarf king, Thorin raising his hands in defense, “I _truly_ meant no harm.” 

Legolas rolled his eyes, “My father, although set in his ways, is doing well.” 

Thorin nodded, hands clasped together as he sat forward on the couch. He turned and reached over to his bag, unzipping it and fumbling around in its contents. Soon there was a slap of paper, Thorin having set the envelope down on the coffee table, “Then I suppose we should get down to business.” 

Legolas reached over and picked up the envelope, pulling out the photos inside, “Yes, of course,” he glanced to Thorin, quirking an eyebrow, “I didn’t just come over for us to discuss my recluse of a father.” 

Thorin chuckled before continuing, “So you saw Bilbo the first of last month?” 

The Elf nodded, eyes looking over the pictures, “Yes, he comes in on the first of every month, drops off a payment at a local bookstore and then leaves.” 

“A bookstore?” Thorin looked questioningly towards the Elf. 

“Yes, and it’s always the same amount every time,” Legolas dropped the photos on the coffee table, reaching into his pocket to pull out his smart phone. He pulled up a few files through his drive, handing the phone to Thorin, “Exactly three thousand, six hundred dollars a month.” 

Thorin was looking over the logs, finding that the documents he was looking over were receipts from the book store. The title of the book was always _There and Back Again_ , over and over down the list of monthly payments to the bookstore. His brow furrowed, “An alias for a rental payment perhaps?” 

“That’s what we thought, but we can’t seem to find any records of land that are tied to the owner of the bookstore,” Legolas sat back in the chair. 

“He comes into the city by car, does he not?” Thorin glanced back at the Elf, “Have you run the plates?” 

“Its an old ford truck but it’s registered to the bookstore owner, but that’s all we can find,” Legolas shook his head, reaching up to undo his bun and let his hair fall. He sighed, “Bilbo had spent _years_ working with Elrond, so he’s pretty well versed in keeping himself hidden.” 

“Why does Elrond want to find him?” Thorin handed Legolas the phone back. 

“Bilbo has some vital information on a possible terrorists group that we’ve been tracking,” Legolas took the phone back, pocketing it quickly, “He found the information last year, but he disappeared soon afterwards before giving his report. Elrond is concerned that the information may lead to an attack in London.” 

Well that explains why Elrond is so pressed to find him. 

“What would Elrond do if he found Bilbo?” Thorin asked, stroking his chin. 

He watched as Legolas’ face fell a bit, the Elf going silent for a moment as if he was thinking over the right words. Legolas looked back to Thorin, “Extract the information of course,” Thorin almost looked appalled, but the Elf continued before the former dwarf would lash out, “Elrond wouldn’t harm him, you _know_ this. He wants Bilbo to be safe just as much as you and I do, but just because he’s of high status in the government doesn’t mean that he can prevent other factions from stepping in. If anyone else in the government finds him, they would use different tactics to get that information.” 

In other words, “Torture and isolation,” Thorin spoke flatly, brow furrowing as his hands clenched, white knuckling. Yes, he knew the British government was crafty and Elrond had a big hand in it. But the Elf Lord wasn’t the biggest fish in the pond, there were bigger, more frightening fish with teeth and no patience; they wouldn’t think twice on using extreme methods to get whatever information they wanted. Bilbo would be captured, thrown through a blender, and then locked up for however long they wanted. Protecting a country held no exceptions, that was something Elrond knew very well. Which explains why he wanted to get to Bilbo first, to protect him the best he could. 

Thorin heaved a sigh, hands clasped and raised to his chin, it was possible that Bilbo found something that probably shouldn’t have been found. Or it was something that spooked him so much that he had to go into hiding. Either way, Bilbo was covering his tracks and he clearly didn’t want to be found. 

“We have two more days?” Thorin glanced up to Legolas, receiving a nod from the Elf. So the hobbit, if he had learned anything from Bilbo, would never stray away from his routine and always stay on schedule. 

“What are you planning to do?” Legolas asked, hair falling over his shoulders. 

Thorin hummed, “He’s going to stick to his routine, no doubt,” he said, looking back to the Elf, “We can’t sneak up on him, it would frighten him.” 

“Then what do you propose?” Legolas tilted his head, “It won’t be long until Elrond sends out agents to fetch him now that you’re in town. The only way we’re gonna be able to help him is if we get to him before anyone else does.” 

Which is most likely why Gandalf came to Thorin in the first place. The former dwarf smirked, meddlesome wizard as always. 

Thorin had been quiet for a long moment, so much he hadn’t notice that Legolas was staring at him with suspicion. The Elf narrowed his eyes, “You already have a plan don’t you?” 

He blinked, eyes looking to Legolas. And the only response that the Elf received was a growing smirk on the man’s bearded face. 

\------------ 

Game set, the players in place, all that was left was the waiting game. 

The plan was simple - extract Bilbo before Elrond or any other agency got a hold of him. Thanks to Legolas they were able to get some more intel on the time when Bilbo was suppose to arrive at the bookstore and from which route he took when he would enter the city. They would wait after Bilbo exited the bookstore, follow him out of the city and then using a purposely strategically placed construction road block - they would nab the hobbit out of his truck without the concern of other Elves or men finding him. 

Let’s just hope that the plan would work. 


	3. What is he doing?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now things seem just a tad more interesting.

SEPTEMBER 1ST 

“Here he comes,” Legolas spoke through the radio earpiece, alerting Thorin as he looked up from his coffee. 

Legolas had informed them of the exact bookstore where Bilbo would come to visit every month. ‘Midnighter’s Bookstore’ as it was called, a small, hole-in-the-wall store that if you weren’t looking you could miss it. Thorin was currently sitting across the street from the bookstore at a small cafe, drinking his coffee on one of the outside tables. 

He watched through his dark sunglasses as an old 1970’s dark green ford pick up truck drove up to park on the street by the shop. Thorin couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow, Bilbo was driving this old hunk of metal? Almost seemed very much unlike the hobbit, but then again he hadn’t spoken to Bilbo since Erebor. 

When he saw movement inside the truck, his hands instantly raised to grasp the acorn necklace that hung from his neck, why was he so nervous? He could feel his heart beginning to pound as time seemed to have slow down to a crawl. What was he doing? He didn’t even know what he was going to say to Bilbo, much less swing him off his feet and take him away to where no ills of world could touch him. Would he be angry to see him? Would Bilbo shout at him? Would he sneer? Would he be upset? Would he cry? Would he throw a book at his head? Thorin’s mind was racing through hundreds of scenarios, all of which didn’t end too well. 

Thorin shook his head slightly, catching himself before his mind would race too far. When he looked back up to the truck, Bilbo was still sitting inside of it. What was he doing? 

Everything was eerily silent with the exception of the sounds of cars driving by and pedestrians walking and talking along the streets. It seemed calm, but Bilbo wasn’t moving from the truck; Thorin narrowed his eyes, the creeping feeling that something was off was beginning to gnaw at the back of his neck. Movement caught his attention at the corner of his eye, something tall and clad in black. He let his eyes glide towards the movement, trying not to give his position away and seem like an everyday coffee snob. A tall man fixed in black clothes had turned the corner, frame thick and face hidden by a hood from a thick military jacket. Thorin could vaguely make out the lower half of the face, squinting his eyes as he tried to get any details - were those teeth sticking out of the man’s lips? 

Before he could investigate further, he heard the rev of an engine and his head snapped back to the truck. Bilbo was driving off, “What is he doing?!” he heard Legolas speak through his earpiece. 

And in reaction to the truck leaving, a black SUV had turned the corner to pick up the man in the black military gear. The SUV took off after Bilbo, tires screeching against the cobblestone and Thorin stood up from his chair. 

“Shit,” Thorin muttered, making a break for his bike. He slipped on his helmet and kickstarted the bike, taking off. 

“I’ll try to cut Bilbo off at the next corner!” Legolas was already on the run from what Thorin could tell in the panting of the Elf’s voice. 

“Get a hold of Gandalf! We might need back up!” Thorin shouted, swerving his bike around a few cars to catch up to the SUV. 

Now his mind was racing. 

Thorin was weaving in and out between cars and trucks, even going so far as to driving on the sidewalk to catch up to the SUV. People screamed and cursed as he drove by, and as he ran the bike off the sidewalk, he could already hear the police cars screaming around the corner to catch up to him. 

Oh great, more distractions. 

He swerved around a delivery truck, narrowly missing a car door that almost opened up on him. He could see the SUV just one car ahead of him, his blood was pumping as the adrenaline kicked in and he revved the bike to move faster. He could see movement on the rooftops, Legolas was already catching up to Bilbo’s truck. Thorin weaved out from behind the next car and swerved to make it in front of it, now riding behind the SUV. 

And of course that’s when the black SUV assholes would pull out the artillery. Thorin cursed. 

Thorin narrowly dodged a few bullets as one of the passengers in the SUV pulled out a machine gun. The rear window shattered as the bullets flew from the SUV and hit other cars behind Thorin. He weaved to the side of the SUV, unable to grab his gun from his belt as he rode alongside the black car. He was going to bite it if he didn’t think of something fast, and those odds were quickly rising against him as the driver’s side passenger window opened up. There was the hooded military man holding a forty five and pointing it right at Thorin’s head. He fired, and Thorin pulled the bike back to swerve behind the SUV again. 

He glanced up towards Bilbo’s truck and saw that thankfully it was untouched by any artillery fire. His eyes drew back to the shattered back window of the SUV when he saw the other passenger holding the machine gun towards him. 

Oh shit. 

Thorin closed his eyes and attempted to move the bike, getting ready to feel the sharp pain of bullets, but thankfully no fire came his way. He saw something pierce the machine gun passenger through the throat and collapse out of the shattered window. Thorin swerved to avoid the deceased body, catching sight of the arrow sticking out of the body’s neck. He looked back to Bilbo’s truck and saw Legolas standing the truck bed, holding his bow. Thank Mahal for Elves. 

He revved his bike to round the SUV, though the driver had other plans. The SUV turned, almost catching Thorin against parked cars along the street and it forced Thorin to reduce his speed. It smashed against the vehicles, tearing up rear view mirrors, doors, and windows as he drove. He cursed and tried to round the other side but once again the SUV smashed against parked cars to keep him from getting through. He glanced back where he heard the sirens, and a police car careened around a corner to join in on the pursuit. 

This was definitely not going according to plan. 

Thorin’s head snapped back to the SUV when he heard shots fired, and he turned his bike to look passed the black car. There were a few bullet holes in the rear window of Bilbo’s truck, but no sign of Legolas. _Oh Mahal, no…_

Thorin steadied himself, and thankfully was finally able to grab the gun from his belt. He cocked it quickly before letting one of his hands go back to the handle and aimed for the SUV. Though instead of going for one of the passengers, he went for the alternative. He fired a shot at one of the black car’s tires and heard the sweet sound of exploding rubber. Thorin grinned when he heard the hooded military man curse as the tire shredded around the rim and exploded from the car’s body. The rim was now driving straight on the cobblestone, sparks flying from the metal as it bounced. But the SUV was still going and that made it quite clear that regardless of the injuries or damage that these men were going to take, apprehending Bilbo was their number one priority. 

And that made them very, _very_ dangerous. 

Thorin shot out one more of the tires, the rubber exploding on impact and the SUV was starting to slow down. He took it as his cue to round the SUV, and before the car was able to turn and crash him against anymore parked cars, he slipped through passed the hood of the SUV. He drove his bike ahead of the SUV, glancing back to see that the car was slowing down but still going. He narrowed his eyes when he saw more movement in the black car, trying to make out what the occupants were doing. When he saw the hooded military man poke his body out of the car, Thorin’s eyes went wide at the sight of the 45 pointed at him. He swerved when the gun went off, and the bullet grazed his leg as he drove. A few more rounds were fired, and Thorin found himself dodging every single one of them though one did hit Bilbo’s taillight. 

He glanced back and saw the military man reloading his gun, getting ready to aim. He was about to duck again when he saw an Elf rise from the bed of the truck. Legolas was ready with his bow as he stood, firing the arrow straight at the SUV. The arrow pierced the front windshield and hit the driver square in the head. The SUV swerved and ran straight into a parked car on the side of the street, the hood bending and collapsing on impact. That would keep the police busy for the time being. 

Thorin grinned, looking back at Legolas; he found the Elf had been grazed against his cheek by one of the bullets. He nodded to the Elf, who in turn nodded back and went to knock on the rear window of Bilbo’s truck. Legolas motioned for Thorin, “Go ahead and lead the way!” he shouted. 

Thorin nodded and drove ahead, his bike taking lead down the cobblestone streets. 

Though that seemed like a poor decision as another SUV slammed right towards Thorin. He was able to rev ahead, but it clipped the back of his bike. Thorin heard Legolas scream his name as he was sent flying, body bouncing against the cobblestone before slowing to a crawl. He watched as he tumbled, Bilbo’s truck didn’t stop, only took the next turn to make his escape. That left Thorin alone to the hands of the SUV occupants. 

He groaned when he heard the black SUV stop by him, tires screeching to a halt. They were currently sitting in a cross street, an alley on either side of the street. He pondered about an escape, but with his injuries he wouldn’t get far. Thorin could feel his arm pulsing, shoulder most likely dislocated and his knee was badly scraped and bleeding, and he was sore all over. He didn’t even register that someone had exited the SUV, his head pulsing and eyes shut to avoid the bright headlights. 

“Bloody dwarf!” came a gruff shout, and something slammed into his midsection. 

Thorin coughed through the helmet, eyes scrunched shut and his mouth pulled into a painful snarl. Another hit came, this time to his head and it caused the helmet to go flying across the cobblestone. Thorin coughed once more, feeling his nose was bloody and lips cracked open, blood just coating his face in a sticky ooze. He was able to pull his eyes open, trying to glance up towards his attackers. His eyes slowly widened when they fell upon the face looking down at him, and he began trying to back away across the ground. 

An orc stood over him. A bloody orc was standing over him in military gear, an orc that was part of a race that died out _thousands_ of years ago and was suppose to be _extinct._

The orc was wearing all black like the rest of his group, no more armor made out of various creatures or metal fused to his body. He was missing an eye, but regardless it held its usual orc-ish features. The tall creature reached back to it’s belt, pulling out a forty five. He cocked it, “We couldn’t get the halfling,” the barrel turned in the orc’s hand to point towards Thorin, “But offing you will save us a headache.” 

Thorin coughed and groaned, trying to get to his feet, sensing his impending doom. He turned his head away, closing his eyes as his body shook with pain. He expected the gun to go off, to feel the shattering pain through his muscles and bones. 

What he didn’t expect was a dark green ford pickup truck to slam right into the orc standing over him. The orc was sent flying right into the alley across, skidding across the cobblestone to a slow halt. The collision caught the other orcs by surprised, and they pulled their weapons to fire. Before any trigger could go off, a series of arrows were fired and the group of orcs were reduced to limp bodies on the ground. Legolas jumped out of the bed of the truck and ran towards the former dwarf, “Thorin!” 

Thorin groaned, sighing with relief as he laid his head down against the ground, “I’m all right,” he croaked out. He felt strong hands carefully pull his body up, Thorin wincing as he felt the pulse rip through his torn knee. He hissed and glanced up to the Elf, “What took you?” 

Legolas smirked, “We had to find a tactical route.” A loud series of cursing, and both dwarf and elf turned back to look at the fallen body in the alleyway. The orc was still holding his gun, but his body was torn and shaking, “You twats!” he shouted. He was standing up from the ground, one arm badly broken and the other holding the gun out, “You think you can stop us- _GRRK!_ ” 

A shot ripped through the orc’s head, the creature unable to share anymore vulgar language. Thorin and Legolas stared for a moment as the orc fell to pieces against the cobblestone street, it’s black blood seeping into the ground. A turn of heads followed, eyes searching until they fell upon the dark green ford. The driver’s side door was open, and a short figure stood by the truck. Not short by hobbit standards, but the figure was still a head shorter than Thorin or Legolas. Bilbo was holding a forty four caliber pistol, both hands holding onto the handle. His hair was pulled back in a small ponytail, he wore a dark brown, hooded jacket that was obviously too large for him. Under the jacket was a loose green button down shirt that was untucked from baggy blue jeans and brown boots. Thorin could make out the slight tremor in the hobbit’s arm as he held the gun, a sign that Bilbo wasn’t use to engaging in violence. 

Despite the changes though, Thorin felt the warm twinge in his chest as he stared at the former hobbit. 

“Bilbo?” he was able to get out, voice hoarse due to his injuries. 

The hobbit was pulled out of his thoughts, head snapping to the taller folk standing a few feet from his truck. Thorin watched as hazel eyes went wide, “Thorin?!” he shouted. 

Thorin wasn’t expecting much of a response from the hobbit, perhaps a pat on the shoulder or a nod. He was even expecting Bilbo to explode on him, perhaps smack him across the face or give him his famous hobbit furrowed, fussy glare and the twitch of his nose. When Bilbo came running over and threw his arms around the tall dwarf, Thorin was caught completely by surprise. He blinked for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and put together what was going on. He winced, but he slowly retracted his arms from Legolas and wrapped them around Bilbo. He leaned his head against the golden curls, no doubt staining the hair with blood. He closed his eyes, feeling all the tension in his shoulders roll over and melt away, sighing, “ _Bilbo_ ,” he whispered into the curls. 

Bilbo smiled softly against the taller form, eyes closed as he held tightly. He pulled away to look up to Thorin, hazel eyes glossed over and hands still on the dwarf’s arms, “Thorin I am so sorry,” he whispered, “I panicked, a-and I didn’t know it was you-- I-I didn’t know what to do- I-” 

“Shh, shh,” Thorin gave a weak smile, one arm holding onto Bilbo, a mix of comfort and also to support himself as he stood, “It’s all right,” he spoke quietly. He nodded to the orc laying dead on the ground, “You got him,” he said, smirking, “And a pretty good shot too.” 

Bilbo couldn’t keep the the small smile from crossing his face, and he reached up to wipe at his eyes with a blood stained hand. It was then that Thorin noticed the wound on Bilbo’s right shoulder, the bullet wound was still gushing with blood. He furrowed his brow, “Bilbo, your arm,” he spoke, frowning. 

The hobbit blinked, a little confused at first but when he looked down to his shoulder his eyes went wide. “Oh dear,” he said, “I didn’t even realize it,” he pressed a hand to the bullet wound. 

“Ahem,” both Bilbo and Thorin turned towards the Elf standing next to them. Legolas nodded his head to the truck, “I don’t mean to interrupt but we should probably leave before the police arrive.” 

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose, “Oh my! Yes, yes!” he turned to tug onto Thorin’s jacket, “Both of you in the truck!” Bilbo slipped his arm around Thorin’s back to give him support, the former dwarf king limping his way to the truck. 

“Oi, my bike-” Thorin looked to the wreck that was sitting across from the abandoned SUV. 

“To pit with your bike, Thorin! You’re hurt!” Bilbo fussed, “In the truck! _Now!_ ” 

Legolas glanced to the former dwarf with a smirk, but it didn’t match the grin that was sitting on Thorin’s face. All these years, and Bilbo was still the same fussy, sassy hobbit that he remembers. 

Thank Mahal for small miracles. 


	4. I Think There are some Matters that Need to be Discussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has some stories to tell

Thorin hissed as he sat on the couch in his living room, eyes falling on the hands that were currently stitching up his knee. As the needle slipped into his skin, Thorin went stiff, “Is it almost done?” he grounded his teeth. 

Tauriel smirked, “Almost,” she spoke softly, pulling on the last strand of stitching before tying it off. She put down the needle and thread in a tray and then picked up the gauze and disinfectant, spraying Thorin’s knee down and then wrapping it securely. 

It was later that night after the road chase, Legolas having driven them back to Thorin’s flat and parking his truck in the garage. Legolas had called Tauriel on the way, the She-Elf meeting them at the flat when they arrived. She addressed Bilbo first, considering the fact that he had a bullet sitting in his shoulder, instructing Legolas to help clean Thorin’s wounds. The hobbit was currently sitting next to Thorin on the other side of the couch, shoulder wrapped up in gauze and wearing one of Thorin’s button down shirts that hung open on his chest. They haven’t heard anything from Gandalf yet, though it was possible that he was trying to smoothe over the situation with the authorities so Thorin or Legolas will go untouched. Meddlesome wizard as always. 

Tauriel packed up her supplies, then reaching over to set Thorin’s leg on the automon that sat near the couch. “Don’t move much for the next few days,” she looked to Thorin, and then to Bilbo, “That goes for the both of you.” 

“On Orc pack on our tails and we’re not suppose to move?” Thorin quirked an eyebrow. He shifted his arm that was also wrapped up but thankfully not broken, his face was bruised, and there was a scratch along his eyebrow. He was wearing a loose fitting tank top that thankfully gave him breathing room for his arm, and a pair of loose gym shorts that sat low on his hips. 

“I’m sure we can keep an eye on things while you two recover,” Legolas spoke up, eyes shifting to Tauriel. When he didn’t get a response from the She-Elf, he cleared his throat, “Uh- if the good doctor is willing to, of course.” 

Tauriel gave Legolas her best flat look, the Elf prince almost squirming under her gaze. “I _am_ willing,” she said, crossing her arms, “But I am going to need more supplies if I’m going to be nursing these two.” 

“All taken care of, my dear lady,” came the low voice from the doorway. 

Thorin looked up to find the wizard standing by the doorway, holding a box of supplies in his hand and a fond smile on his face. He smirked, “We thought you disappeared, wizard.” 

“Now, Thorin,” Gandalf walked across the room to deliver the box to Tauriel, “Have I ever been one to disappoint?” 

The former dwarf still held his smirk, leaning his head back, “The authorities?” 

“All dispersed and no suspicion of your involvement,” the wizard adjusted his tie as he set his cane against the side table by the couch. He took off his fedora, “Took some persuasion,” he nodded to the cane, “But I was able to convince them nonetheless. Oh and your bike, Thorin, is in the garage and in great need of repair.” 

“Thank you, Gandalf,” Thorin deadpanned, closing his eyes as he felt the pain of hearing about his beloved bike. 

The wizard smile, attention turning to the smaller figure on the couch, “Bilbo Baggins,” he called. 

The hobbit turned to look to the wizard, a smile spreading across his face, “Hello, Gandalf,” he spoke, but his voice was obviously tired. 

Gandalf rounded the coffee table to kneel by the couch where Bilbo sat. He put a hand on Bilbo’s good arm, a warm smile spreading his lips, “My dear Bilbo, it is so wonderful to see you safe and sound.” 

Bilbo nodded, “I wish the circumstances could be better,” he leaned his head back a bit. 

The wizard nodded, “Yes, I do as well,” he patted Bilbo’s arm, “But, rest assured you are not alone in this. Our company will do all we can to help you, Bilbo.” 

“Thank you, Gandalf,” Bilbo cleared his throat, his eyes lidded as he felt the exhaustion take over. 

Gandalf stood up from the couch, “Now, I know we have much to discuss,” he tapped on his cane, “But we can save that for the morning. Now, how about dinner?” 

\-------------- 

Gandalf had ordered Chinese, but by the time it was delivered to the flat Thorin and Bilbo were already doped up on painkillers and sleeping on the couch. It took some coaxing, but Legolas and Tauriel were able to get Bilbo from the couch and to the bedroom that sat near the living room. Thorin had mumbled something about staying on the couch before he passed out again, and the Elves knew not to argue with him. 

Thorin awoke to the smell of fresh mint and something warm and steamy sitting by his face. He took in a deep sigh, eyes fluttering for just a moment before he looked up to whoever was standing over him. He let a smile grace his face as he saw the small form of the hobbit, “Good morning,” his voice rumbled. 

Bilbo was holding onto a fresh cup of mint tea, a small, tired smile looking down at the former dwarf, “Good morning,” he greeted, “Tea?” 

A larger hand took the cup graciously, Thorin having to adjust himself on the couch to sit up. He groaned slightly, wincing at his bad arm and pulsing knee as he moved, brow furrowing until he relaxed against the cushions. He looked back up to Bilbo, who had taken a seat across from him on the couch, “Thank you,” he sipped his tea. 

Bilbo nodded, though he didn’t give much of a verbal response. Thorin glanced at the hobbit from the corner of his eye, catching as Bilbo was tapping his fingers around the cup that he held. He was biting his lip, as if he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

Thorin swallowed another sip of his tea, placing the cup back down in his hands. Crystal blue eyes studied the hobbit for a moment, his jaw flexing as he sat silently on the couch. The pause was far too awkward for Thorin’s liking, and he wanted so _badly_ to get some sort of words out, to actually speak to his beloved hobbit. He sighed quietly, tapping his finger on the tea cup and looked up to Bilbo, mouth open and ready to spill whatever words that would erupt from his throat. 

Gandalf timing was opportune, but honestly unwelcome as the wizard stepped in just before Thorin could get a word out, “Good morning,” came the low, rumbled voice. Thorin cursed the wizardly inwardly, looking up to see him already dressed and holding onto his own fancy cup of steaming tea. He sat down in the armchair by the couch, “Well, you two are looking well,” he sipped nonchalantly on his cup. 

Thorin nodded stiffly, grinding his jaw and still sour over his lost attempt at making any real conversation with the hobbit. Legolas and Tauriel had joined them some moment later, Legolas with a cup of coffee and Tauriel residing to just water. It was then that Gandalf put his cup of tea down carefully on the coffee table, sipping back against the armchair was both hands clasped over the head of his cane. He looked knowingly at the group, “Well, now that we’ve all gathered,” he smiled, “I think there are some matters that need to be discussed.” 

Old eyes went to the smaller figure on the couch, “Bilbo,” he called, receiving a swift turn of the head from the hobbit, “I believe you have a story to tell?” 

Bilbo was mid-sip with his tea, and he glanced around the room to see all eyes looking on him. He gulped loudly, fingers nervously tapping on his tea cup once more. “Y-Yes,” he bit his lip, “I guess I do.” 

Gandalf nodded towards the hobbit, “Go on, now,” he said, “Start from the beginning.” 

Bilbo’s head bounced, nodding a little too shakily as he reached over to place his tea cup down on the coffee table. Thorin was watching the hobbit carefully, moving himself up to sit straight on the couch. He saw the reluctance in Bilbo’s face, the twitch of his nose and the nervously fumbling fingers that sat in his lap. He tilted his towards the hobbit, “It’s alright, Bilbo,” he spoke softly. 

Hazel eyes glanced towards the dwarf, and he saw Bilbo swallow thickly. The hobbit nodded, and took a deep breath, “From the beginning, then.” 

He clasped his hands together, rubbing his thumbs together, “For the past few decades I’ve been working with Elrond and the Elves in intelligence, I started back around 1945 or 46’ after the war ended. My job was to keep track of any suspicious activity, whether it be from China, North Korea, or the Russians. Basically I’m a data hound, I dig around for secret info and I report it to Elrond. Thankfully that has gotten easier thanks to technology.” 

Bilbo fumbled with his hands for a moment, “About,” he began, biting his lip, ”About a year ago, Elrond had us tasked with tracking a terrorist group from Russia, and I found - well, more like stumbled onto something that was rather odd.” 

“What was it?” Thorin found himself asking, calmly. 

Bilbo took another deep breath, “A British file in a Russian database, somehow I had hacked it or decoded it, I’m not sure exactly sure what I did but _there_ it was and I found it.” His brow furrowed, eyes lost in the memory, “At first I thought it was just a hoax, someone put in a fake file to throw me off but after doing some digging into the program-- I unfortunately found that it was indeed true.” 

The hobbit glanced up, looking between Thorin and Legolas, “You both were wondering how there were orcs still alive today?” 

Legolas’s eyebrows furrowed, “The Russians found the orcs?” 

“More like the British did,” Thorin rumbled, his mood already souring. 

Bilbo nodded, “The Russian terrorist group was just a ruse for this faction of the British government to cover its tracks. I looked into the file, they found the orcs in the ruins of what use to be Moria - now current day Russia. And the Russian government hasn’t a clue that the British government is digging up dormant orcs.” 

“Why would they be taking orcs?” Tauriel glanced around the group. 

Thorin sighed, “Why else would a government be putting this much time and effort into finding new ways to strengthen their empire?” He laid his head back, “They’re using the orcs for military purposes,” and this is why he hated the world of man. 

Bilbo nodded once more, “If the Russian government finds out, then it could mean war for Europe again.” 

“Is that why you left?” Thorin turned his head up towards the hobbit. 

The hobbit swallowed thickly, clearing his throat, “Well, not--really,” he glanced to Thorin who made a ‘go on’ nod with his head, “After I found the information, I went to try and inform Elrond. But the faction had already been notified of my infiltration and cut me off before I had a chance to. They tried to take me in, but I was thankfully able to get away.” 

Hazel eyes looked up from his hands, “They’ll try and kill anyone who gets in their way,” he glanced to Thorin,”That’s why I ran yesterday, I didn’t want to take any chances of getting caught.” 

Thorin nodded, his face falling a bit at the defeated look on Bilbo’s face. He turned his head when Gandalf spoke up, “Did you try and get into contact with Elrond at all?” 

“I did,” Bilbo sighed, “But this faction is ruthless. Every time I made an attempt was just another step forward for them to finding me. And the more frightening part is I don’t know who it is the leading party of the faction.” 

Gandalf made a disapproving sound, hands gripping his cane tightly, “And where is this information now?” 

“Back at my-” Bilbo paused for a moment, twitching his nose, gut wrenching at the decision whether to tell the group about his secrets. Hazel eyes glanced around, and the pit of his stomach lurched in anxiety. To trust them or not? They were all in league with the British government in some shape or form; how could he put his faith in these faces? 

He reminded himself, however, that these were the same faces of those who have helped him over and over again. If he could trust them back then, than why not now? 

He cleared his throat, “B-Back at my safe house. I saved it all to an external hard drive.” 

The wizard nodded, “Then perhaps it would be wise to to take this company to your safe house, Bilbo.” He looked to the other occupants in the room, “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get to the bottom of this fiasco. And it will give us time to figure out a way to get in touch with Elrond.” 

“I thought you’ve been in touch with him?” Thorin was already making an attempt to push himself up from the couch. 

“I am,” Gandalf stood up from the chair, “But if this faction has indeed been tracking Bilbo, then there is a good chance they already know we are involved. Cell phones will have to be a limited option from now on.” 

“Then let’s waste no time then,” Legolas rose from his seat. 

\------------- 

Bags packed once again, bodies were hurriedly running around the flat to gather whatever they needed. Thorin had been limping around the house, pulling weapons from every nook and cranny he’d been hiding them in; better to be prepared of course. He was clearing out the master bedroom, shuffling towards his walk-in closet and grabbed at jackets and shirts. As he grabbed at a pair of pants, his hand grazed over an old container sitting behind the wardrobe, and he stopped. Crystal blue eyes went soft, his shoulders falling a bit as he stared at the long, worn leather case. It’s been years since he’s seen it, maybe - _just perhaps…_

Thorin pulled out the heavy leather box and carried it out to the bedroom, where he took a seat on the bed. He sat there, eyes studying over the box, seeing how the corners were worn, the leather stripping, and the wood old cracked at some of the seems. He sighed through his nose, fingers running over the old brass latch that kept the case shut. His thumb flipped the latch, opening the lid carefully, the hinges whining after years of being stationary. His eyes fell upon the shimmering, sharp object lying in the case, “Hello beautiful,” he whispered in awe. 

Orcrist lay in a bed or red velvet, untouched and incredibly unscathed. Thorin pulled out his old sword, marveling at how the blade was still clean and crisp, the grip feeling right in his hand. He missed the old days, when there were no guns, no canons, no tanks, and no planes. Just a sword that he could rely on, swift and deadly, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Simply put, Thorin missed his sword. 

“Should I leave you two alone for a while?” 

Thorin jumped, head snapping to the doorway where he found Bilbo leaning against the doorframe. The hobbit had a sly smirk on his face, one that made Thorin fumble in his spot. He cleared his throat, looking between Bilbo and Orcrist before putting the sword down back in the case. “I was just-um,” the dwarf coughed, “I had thought since there are orcs running around, that there might be a need for Orcrist.” 

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, a small smirk gracing his lips, “Are you sure that’s all that you need the sword for?” 

The heat rose in Thorin’s cheeks and he turned back to the case, pulling out the sword and the scabbard. He cleared his throat once more, “We should get going,” he mumbled to himself, putting Orcrist into the scabbard and the case aside, attempting to stand from the bed all at once. He lost his footing, face contorting with pain as his knee flared and he found himself tripping over himself. 

Quick legs ran to catch the former dwarf, Bilbo holding Thorin around the torso. The hobbit was staring up at the dwarf, eyes filled with concern, “Easy, Thorin. Are you alright?” 

Thorin winced, though he was able to open his eyes to look down to the hobbit. He found those hazel eyes looking up at him, gentle hands on his chest and back, and the warmth of Bilbo’s body against his. _Ah Mahal, why do you torture me so?_

He nodded, “I should be fine,” he breathed, “Thank you, Bilbo.” 

Bilbo gave a soft, polite smile, “Well you’re not going to get far with that sword on your back. Come on, hand it over.” 

Pushy hobbit. Thorin glanced at the strap over his shoulder, letting his arm relax and the strap slid off onto his forearm. He handed it to Bilbo, “How’s your shoulder?” he asked. 

Bilbo took the sword, and as if on cue he winced at the added weight to his back, “A bit sore, but that comes with the territory I suppose?” he shrugged, giving a half-hearted smile. There was a pause, an almost insufferable silence that sat between the two, and Thorin found himself almost screaming internally because _WHY WAS THIS SO HARD?!_

Bilbo stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Thorin’s good arm. Hazel eyes danced as they rose to meet crystal blue ones, “Thank you,” he spoke, voice with a hint of bashfulness, “For yesterday I mean. I’m sorry, I forgot to say so earlier.” 

Thorin held his gaze with the hobbit, eyes wide and bright as he listened. He let his shoulders relax, a smirk crawling over his lips, “Of course, Bilbo,” he said, “Though, really I should be thanking you.” Thorin shifted his footing, putting weight on his good leg, “I mean, that was a helluva shot you pulled yesterday,” his eyes rolled as he shrugged, though the smirk never left, “Made me quite jealous.” 

The hobbit chuckled, “Why is that?” 

The dwarf moved to lean against the door frame, “Well if you’re such a good shot,” he bit his lip, flashing a small grin, “What am I supposed to do?” 

Bilbo stared at him for a moment, eyebrow quirk and almost a skeptical look on his face. He smirked, teeth flashing as he tried to hide his reddening cheeks, “Well I guess you’ll have to be the burglar this time.” 

Thorin chuckled, bringing his good arm to rest his hand in his pocket, “I’ll make sure to pack the _handkerchief_ then.” 

A scoff from the hobbit, “You’re still not going to let that go are you?” 

“Not in the _slightest_ ,” Thorin’s grin was wide as he looked at the hobbit though strands of dark hair. 

Bilbo feigned insulted, however the grin told a different story. He ran his tongue over his teeth from behind his lips, eyes crinkling as he smiled, “I’m glad you’re here, Thorin.” 

The dwarf tilted his head, “Really?” his eyes conveying a hint of surprise. 

“Really,” Bilbo nodded, voice going soft, “It’s--It’s been too long.” 

Thorin leaned his head against the door frame, “It has hasn’t it,” he smiled, “We definitely have a lot to catch up on.” 

Bilbo gave a faint nodded, and let the conversation die down into silence. The hobbit’s eyes were admiring the floor, the silence between them feeling more relaxed as they stood, albeit a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Bilbo cleared his throat, “We better get going,” he gave Thorin a warm smile as he turned towards the stairwell, “Shall we?” 

“I suppose,” Thorin pushed himself from the door frame, shoulders feeling lighter as he followed Bilbo down the stairs. 


	5. Someone is Tailing Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been working on deadlines, so now that I have a snippet of free time - here's a crafty wizard.

As soon as all the bags were packed, they were on the road. Gandalf was able to acquire a car, more so a Jeep Cherokee considering the fact that they would be traveling with five people. It was mid afternoon when they left, London already bustling when they turned onto the main streets. 

Bilbo was acting as navigator, already knowing the route by heart since he never used an mobile device. It made him more of a target to for the military faction to track him. Thorin was already doped up on painkillers, sitting up front with Gandalf and asleep in his seat. Bilbo had informed them that it would be several hours before they would reach his safe house, so it granted the dwarf some time to rest. 

However, it was short lived. 

“Someone is tailing us,” Legolas spoke up, hand firmly shaking Thorin by (thankfully) his good shoulder. 

Thorin blinked, eyes fluttering open and shaking his head to push away the fog. He turned to look at the rear view mirror, finding the rows of cars trailing behind them. Though amongst those vehicles was a very familiar black SUV, and apparently it brought some friends along this time. Thorin cursed to himself in Khuzdul, “They don’t give up, do they?” 

“I told you,” Bilbo’s voice spoke up from the backseat with a hint of caution. 

“Is there anyway to lose them?” Thorin glanced back at Bilbo. 

“Not for another few miles,” the hobbit’s features looked strained, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched. 

Something shattered, and Gandalf swerved as he drove on the freeway. Thorin looked back to find the side rearview had been shot out, glass shards falling from the plastic casing. He turned himself to look back through the rear windshield, spotting a black SUV already speeding up behind them. 

“Then we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Legolas was already unbuckling himself, long arms reaching back behind the seat. He pulled his bow, looking up to sunroof of the car and opening it, crawling up through the small opening. 

Tauriel already had her bow ready, opening the window next to her which left Thorin to pull his gun from the glovebox. Another shot fired, taking out the rear window of the car, Bilbo letting out a yelp as he ducked his head. Thorin looked back, the SUV now just a few yards away and crawling ever so closer. He could see someone in the front passenger seat sticking out of the window and aiming no doubt a handgun towards their car. Tauriel turned towards the rear windshield as the shooter took aim, pulling back on her bow. The shot never came, Tauriel’s bow piercing the windshield and hitting the driver straight on. The SUV sped up, no doubt due to the dead weight hitting the gas and the car rammed into the Jeep ahead of it. Gandalf swiftly turned the car, merging into another lane as the SUV sped ahead. Thorin watched as it crashed over the medium, violently hitting the cement blockade as the frame buckled and shattered. 

That was one down. 

Thorin glanced back when he heard the rev of heavy engines and found three more SUV’s speeding up. They swerved around traffic, one already tailing the jeep and two of its passengers aiming their weapons towards the car. An orc fired a machine gun at the jeep, Legolas having to jump on top of the car to avoid fire as the rest just ducked and covered. Thorin growled, resolving to aiming with his bad arm and firing at the SUV. He was able to shoot at the hood of the car but it did nothing to stop or slow it down. Another series of shots ripped through the air and they were ducking once more, Thorin screamed when a bullet grazed his bad arm, and he dropped the gun in the backseat. 

Another wave of fire was on the horizon, but the happy orc with the machine gun was cut short when an arrow made it’s way through his head. The body slumped and fell on the road, tumbling under the tires of oncoming cars. The other orc fumbled with his weapon for a moment, attempting to take aim, but he met his doom when another arrow caught him through the chest, sending him flying. One more arrow hit the passenger side of the car, the orc inside having tried to open the window to fire his handgun. No doubt had to thank Legolas for that. 

It looked as it there were not more armed occupants in the car, Legolas taking aim for the driver. Glass shattered as a series of shots flew out and the Elf ducked quickly, narrowly avoiding gunfire by the strands of his hair. All eyes in the jeep looked up to find one more orc with a machine gun, aiming it as he sat in the middle of the SUV next to the driver. Thorin watched, eyes wide as the orc pulled back on the charging handle and took aim once more. The orc grazed the trigger with his finger, and Thorin ducked his head for cover, sensing this could be the final round before they all would end up shattered on the highway. 

Two shots rang out, blood splattering the window of the SUV and Thorin shot his head up. Bilbo was holding Thorin’s handgun, his brow furrowed and hazel eyes alight with a concentrated gaze that was fitting for an expert marksman. Thorin looked passed Bilbo, finding that the last two orcs were dead in the front seat and the SUV was slowing down on the highway. 

That’s twice now that the Hobbit saved his life, in this century at least. 

He would of laughed, relief washing over him if it not for the tremor in Bilbo’s hands. Thorin narrowed his gaze at the hobbit, concern filling his eyes and words wanting to speak up but Tauriel beat him to the punch. The She-Elf placed a hand on the hobbit’s arm, and Bilbo snapped out of his trance. Thorin watched as the hobbit breathed, and sunk against his seat with a hand over his face, the gun hanging from the other. 

He reached over carefully with his bad arm, slipping his fingers over the metal to take the handgun away from Bilbo’s grasp. Bilbo looked up when he felt movement, and the look on his face made Thorin’s chest tighten. He was met with glossy hazel eyes and red cheeks, the tremor in Bilbo’s hand still wracking his limbs. Thorin had put the gun down in the front seat, reaching back over to grasp at the smaller hand that was still shaking. He squeezed gently, holding the hobbit’s gaze as if to say _I’m here._

“Two more are gaining up!” came Legolas’ cry, and Thorin snapped his head to look around. 

He looked passed Bilbo, spying the two more black SUV’s weaving through traffic. He growled, gritting his teeth, “We’re not going to last much longer.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Gandalf said, and he pushed on the gas, “Which is why we may need a change in appearance.” 

_“What?!”_

Thorin and Bilbo shared equally confused looks as they watched the wizard, Bilbo leaning slightly to look passed Thorin. A tunnel was coming up, a road under an opposite freeway and Gandalf turned to the other occupants, “Would anyone mind handing me my cane?” 

When someone had handed the wizard his staff, he barked up at Legolas to get back into the car. The two SUV’s were gaining fast, the jeep in their sights as they inched closer and closer. The jeep drove into the tunnel, the darkness blanketing it before the SUV’s could follow. The tunnel wasn’t long, the SUV’s meeting the other side in daylight within seconds. The occupants searched around ahead of them, the traffic riding on the highway as they drove. 

But the white jeep had all but disappeared. 

From their spot, Thorin watched as the SUV’s sped ahead further into traffic. He sighed, sinking into his seat and placed a hand on his once again wounded arm. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he muttered, lifting an eyebrow towards the wizard. 

Gandalf smirked, tipping his hat, “There are a lot of things I can do, Thorin,” he said, “I just prefer to use them when they are needed.” 

Thorin smirked, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. He reached back to searching for a moment before his fingers found smaller ones once again. He felt a squeeze from the hobbit, and Thorin let a small, soft smile grace his lips. 

They drove along the highway, their shot up Jeep now a new grey Ford Expedition in it’s place, seemingly innocent as Bilbo navigated them all the way to safety. 

\------------ 

Durisdeer, Dumfries and Galloway in Scotland. One of the least known small villages in Scotland near the coastline was their destination. Thorin was once again drugged up on painkillers and fighting to stay awake, Tauriel having fixed his arm up the best she could as they drove the seven hours to Scotland. By the time they got to the small village it was the middle of the night, and all of the occupants were limply pulling themselves from the car. 

Bilbo’s safe house was - to say the least- picturesque. It was a plain, white brick house that sat alone by the coast, surrounded by plenty of green and the soothing sounds of the sea just a walk down from the house. Even in the night, the trees seemed humble and comforting, the breeze brushing them around to and fro and letting the leaves fly, gliding around in the wind. It was a rather calming sight, a place to sit back and relax to. 

Thorin just wishes he could see it. 

He grunted as he was lifted into the couch by the fireplace, brow furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. Tauriel was already there checking his leg, pulling out her supplies and pushing up the leg of Thorin’s pants to change the bandages. He could hear the comings and goings of Gandalf and Legolas as they moved things into the house. Thorin closed his eyes and tilted his head back, groaning once more when he felt the sting of disinfectant on his knee. Tauriel moved to his arm next, peeling off the makeshift patch job she had performed earlier and applying something more resilient. She patted Thorin’s arm gently, “Now - and I _mean it_ this time - _no_ moving around,” she gave him that Elvish, stern look, “You need your rest.” 

The former dwarf gave a weak smile, still feeling the pain killer course through his veins, “Thank you, Tauriel.” 

He felt the cushion sink next to him, Thorin turning his head slightly to glance at the body next to him. Bilbo was sitting on the couch next to him, Tauriel helping him strip off the shirt he was wearing and setting it aside. He could see that the hobbit was spent, gold curls a mess and frazzled, and eyes lidded as he sunk against the couch. Tauriel was pulling off the old bandages to his shoulder, cleaning the wound carefully and Thorin could see the pain in Bilbo’s eyes. When the She-Elf was done, she helped him back into the button-down shirt and told him the same, “Lay still and rest,” before turning to help Legolas and Gandalf. 

Now it was just Thorin and Bilbo, two peas in a pod as they sat on the couch by the fire, completely miserable in their injuries. Thorin was content with just lying on the couch and dozing, it was late anyway and they were both spent, he had no energy to let his ridiculous cowardice take hold of him. 

But something nagged at him, tugged at him at the back of his mind and found himself opening his eyes to the low lit room. He turned his head slightly, eyes falling onto the hobbit. Bilbo had his arms folded over his torso as he leaned against the far side of the couch, eyes lost in the fire. Thorin watched him for a moment, turning his head back to lay against the cushions. He closed his eyes, “You cease to amaze me, Master Baggins.” 

“Hm?” Bilbo was half awake, head lazily turning to face the former dwarf. “That shot you made today,” Thorin breathed a sigh, “With the orcs. That was two head shots in a matter of _seconds._ ” 

The hobbit was silent for a moment, eyes growing more aware as he stared at the dwarf. He turned back to the fire, adjusting himself on the couch, “Lucky shot I guess,” he mumbled. 

“Quite lucky, indeed,” Thorin turned his head to face the hobbit, eyes studying him closely. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” the dwarf’s voice was calm but curious. 

He could see the tension rise in Bilbo’s shoulders, but the hobbit didn’t face him, “It’s really nothing, Thorin.” 

“Were you in the military-” 

“I said _drop it_ , Thorin!” Bilbo’s voice rose, his brow furrowed as the light of the fire lit his hazel eyes into a fiery gold. 

The dwarf went silent, blue eyes dancing as he looked the hobbit up and down, seeing the contorted features on his face. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could muster, sitting back against the couch, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Bilbo glanced up to the dwarf, though now his eyes were softer as his shoulders laxed. He swallowed, turning back to the fireplace, “No I-” he clasped his hands together, “ _I-I’m_ sorry. It’s just--” He rubbed his hands together, eyes looking into the flames as they danced around the burning log. Bilbo turned back to Thorin, biting his lip, “It’s-- It’s been a long day.” Bilbo closed his eyes, feeling his shoulders shake despite the warm air that flooded the room. 

A strong hand reached over to grasp the smaller ones that sat in Bilbo’s lap, and the hobbit opened his eyes to look up at the taller man that sat next to him. Thorin’s eyes were warm and gentle, fingers giving Bilbo a light squeeze, “Is there anything I do?” he asked softly. He knew it wouldn’t be wise to push the question, especially considering everything they’ve been through in a matter of days. 

There was a pause, Bilbo quiet as he seemed to stumble and search on what to say. When he looked up to Thorin, his eyes were glossy and his voice seemed frail, “Just--stay?” he said, “Stay here?” 

“I can do that,” came the gentle smile from the former dwarf, and he scooted over on the couch. A strong arm wrapped around the hobbit’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the smaller figure press against him. 

When Gandalf arrived back to the house with the two Elves in tow, they made sure not to wake the sleeping dwarf and the hobbit as they laid curled up on the couch by the fireplace. 


End file.
